


What No One Tells You About Saving the World

by KLStarre



Category: Not Another D&D Podcast (Podcast)
Genre: Character Study, Found Family, Gen, Legendary Heroes, Parallels, Relationship Study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21632965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KLStarre/pseuds/KLStarre
Summary: An exploration of the similarities and differences between the Boobs and the Legendary Heroes.
Relationships: Alanis & Thiala & Ulfgar Trueaxe, Moonshine Cybin & Hardwon Surefoot & Beverly Toegold V
Comments: 33
Kudos: 126





	1. The World Isn’t What Matters

**Author's Note:**

> This is for a prompt from an Anonymous Tumblr user!  
> Here is the current playlist for this work: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3yD0XH7tXuCKgsZfSVEHKS?si=I41LSe87T3y48w3Rhxw7hg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ulfgar Trueaxe needs to rest. Hardwon Surefoot loves his friends.

They emerge from Hell triumphant. But it doesn’t feel triumphant, is the thing. Ulfgar Trueaxe walks with a limp, Thiala too spent to fully heal the leg that leaves bloody footsteps behind them, and he and Alanis are supporting her between them. He can feel Thiala’s hands shaking as she clutches onto both of their shoulders. They need to rest. Moradin above, they need to rest, but they’ve been in hell so long that Ulfgar’s lost track of the days and the sudden impact of sunlight is so startling that they stop moving, for a second, and look up into it.

“Pelor’s still watching us,” Alanis says, turning her head to Thiala, and Thiala lets out a noncommittal sigh, barely a response. She’s tired. It makes sense.

They keep walking until they find a cave by a lake so large Ulfgar can’t see the other side. Alanis can, probably, but he doesn’t ask. The cave will protect their backs and the lake will protect their fronts and Alanis doesn’t sleep these days, anyway, and Ulfgar and Thiala awaken to the slightest of sounds. Not that Ulfgar would ever admit it, but if this is what being a legendary hero is, he doesn’t fucking want it.

Alanis and Ulfgar lay Thiala down as gently as they can on the ground of the cave, but Ulfgar’s leg gives out as he bends down and he falls to his knee, barely able to support her. There’s something necrotic in the wound, and it hurts more than anything he’s ever felt. He notices Alanis looking at him, brow furrowed in concern, and shakes his head. Thiala’s got it worse, used all of her healing on him and Alanis and none on herself.

Thiala falls asleep almost immediately, and Ulfgar and Alanis retreat to the back of the cave, light a fire, heat up the last of their rations. They don’t speak more than necessary. They’ve both got two levels of exhaustion, at least, and making too much noise would mean they couldn’t hear Thiala’s quiet, quiet breathing as it stops, coughs, starts again, repeats. Eight hours. She just has to make it eight hours and then she can Heal the fuck out of all of them and Alanis can Teleport them home and he can just hang around and be useless, he guesses. There’s nothing he can do outside of a fight, and if he ever sees another fight again it’ll be an eternity too soon.

They eat. He sleeps, in the back of the cave where it’s darkest, and Alanis trances, towards the mouth where she can hear the rhythm of the lake lapping against its shores. When they awaken, it’s dark.

Thiala is still unsteady, but she Greater Restorations, Heals, Cures Wounds. Alanis sets up wards, and Ulfgar doesn’t know shit about magic, has never had any interest in learning, but he knows that you don’t ward a cave in the middle of nowhere that you’re planning on Teleporting away from.

“What are you doing?” he asks, as Alanis walks back towards him and Thiala, and Alanis blows a puff of smoke into the air, looking for all the world like it’s just another day. She’s always been the strongest of them, but Ulfgar knows walls when he sees them.

“What do you mean?”

“The…magic shit. Wards.”

“If this is going to be our base while we recover, it’s gotta be well protected. Woulda done it last night if I’d had anything more than a cantrip.”

Thiala looks up from her seat on the ground, leaning against a stalagmite. “Thanks, Alanis.” She sounds like she knows what Alanis is talking about.

“What the fuck are you talking about? We did it. We killed Asmodeus. We’re done. Let’s just go home. No one will ever know.” It was _true._ They’d killed Asmodeus, and they’d all made it out alive, which was more than could be said for anyone who’d come before them.

“Ilsed’s still down there,” Thiala says, and Ulfgar can’t tell if the strain in her voice is from pain or from anger. He goes to glance at her amulet for reassurance, as he always does, and doesn’t see it. Must be under her shirt or something. Whatever. Not the important thing right now.

“And someone else can deal with Ilsed! We made it out alive. Thiala _barely_ made it out alive. Why is it our responsibility _again_?” Thiala pushes herself up into a sitting-up position, and Ulfgar lets out a harsh laugh. “Look at her! She’s blown most of her higher-level spells already this morning, and still can barely sit up. We’re in no shape to do _anything_!”

“I’ll be fine,” Thiala responds, but even Alanis looks skeptical.

“We’re the heroes, Ulfgar.” But Alanis has stopped her ritual casting, which is a win in his book. “Who’s going to do it if not us?”

“Someone else,” he says, and his leg gives out again, even though Thiala’s done all she can to heal it. From the ground, again – “Someone else.”

∞

Hardwon Surefoot doesn’t give a shit about saving the world. It’s never been particularly kind to him, and it’s never treated anyone he cares about well, either. He knows this is ridiculous. He knows that, technically, the people he cares about are _part_ of the world, but he doesn’t see why he can’t just save them, and not the rest of it. His mother, dead. His father, dead and probably a piece of shit. The only girl he’d ever loved, dead. His childhood hero, mind-controlled for years. It’s a litany of suffering that seems to target everyone around him. And –

He watches Moonshine trance, on the other side of the one big bed, Bev in between them and Balnor snoring on his chair. He knows he should sleep, but he’s still not used to his new body, to the way it feels when it’s dark and quiet and there’s nothing else to focus on. Bev is curled up next to him, one tiny hand on his chest, and Moonshine looks much more tired than she ever does when they’re awake. Her lips are pursed tight together and he can see the way her brow furrows, the way her shoulders tense. When they’re awake, she’s full of love and energy, always laughing, talking, flirting. Hardwon thinks his walls are strong, but he’s got nothing on Moonshine.

A strand of hair jumps up and down over her mouth as she breathes in and out, and Hardwon can’t help himself, he reaches out, careful not to wake Bev, and tucks it behind her ear as gently as he can. Before he can pull away again, Moonshine grabs his hand tight and presses it to her chest, her shoulders relaxing for a second before she releases it.

In the morning, before they head out, he and Bev do their squats. Hardwon does his best not to think about how different his body feels, and claps Bev on the back, says, “You’re getting there, kid!” The grin that splits Bev’s face in response seems almost improbable. After, when they’re sweaty and worn out (not that Hardwon would admit it), they sit side by side and Bev pulls out _Ulfgar Goes Punch._ Hardwon has it memorized by now, but he doesn’t say anything.

“This is an A, remember?” Bev says. “It sounds like ahh.”

Hardwon traces it with his finger absentmindedly as he looks across the tent at Moonshine listening in and Balnor packing the bag. “And this one?” he asks, even though he knows he’s asked a thousand times. Bev doesn’t get frustrated.

“That’s an H. The first letter of Hardwon.” Right. He knows that one. He _knows_ that one.

“What about this?”

“That’s an E. The first letter of Elias.” Bev is _so small_ leaning against him, patiently trying to teach him something he should have learned decades ago, and the acknowledgement of both of his names is so small, so unimportant, but who else has ever done that, besides these three? Who else has ever bothered to acknowledge him for long enough to learn one of his names, let alone two?

So, yeah, Hardwon Surefoot doesn’t give a shit about saving the world. But if that’s what they want to do, he’ll do it. Because he will die the death of a forgotten hero before he allows himself to let them down.


	2. It's All Up To You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alanis has learned that she can't fix everything on her own. Moonshine has not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I use Evocation wizard abilities for Alanis, and yes I know Time Stop doesn't work like that, but it's my fic and I make the rules

_Hell…sucks. Like, no shit, right, but Alanis isn’t really capable of forming any other coherent thoughts right now because if she stops paying attention for more than a second then Thiala and Ulfgar are going to die and it’ll be her fault because she’s the most powerful of the three of them and they all know it, even if Thiala teases her for being overconfident._

_“Duck!” Alanis yells, and Thiala pulls back behind her and Ulfgar takes it literally, covers his head as she sends a 7 th level Disintegrate blasting over him and into the Devil himself. He’s immune to most of what she can do, but her spell rips through him, blasting a chunk off of one of his horns. “Fuck you, you piece of shit motherfucker,” she whispers between clenched teeth, already beginning the incantation for her next attack. It’s the least she can do, but with all of her beautifully honed fire magic completely useless – which is so stupid she should have known better than to limit herself and focus on one thing but it’s too late for those regrets now – she needs it to be enough. Needs it to. _

_Ulfgar doesn’t notice her frustration, just raises his axe in salute to her and bellows something incoherent before swinging the axe one, two, three, four times at Asmodeus directly in front of him. He misses every time, and Alanis growls as she watches him stumble back, a look of fear, or the closest thing to it he’s ever felt, flashing across his face._

_Asmodeus doesn’t even look at him. Legendary goddamn hero swinging an axe, and he’s not even enough to merit Asmodeus’s attention. They are so well and truly fucked, and it’s Alanis’s fault, Alanis’s fault for talking them into thinking they could do this, Alanis’s fault for preparing the wrong damn spells, for learning the wrong damn spells, for dragging the people she loves into something they can’t win. Alanis’s fault if the world ends._

_Asmodeus turns his head to look at Thiala, standing just behind Alanis. Alanis can picture her without looking, blonde hair close-cropped for convenience, standing proud and tall. She’s so hurt, already, and Alanis can picture that, too, the attack she’d been too slow to stop. Asmodeus raises a hand to point at Thiala, and Alanis watches necrotic energy leave it in slow motion, panic rising up at the image of Thiala injured, dying, bleeding out, before she shoves that panic down with a Counterspell that she casts with barely even a conscious thought. Easy. Whatever. It’s not like she’s doing anything else with her lower level slots, anyway. Fuck, Asmodeus’s spell immunity is a pain in the ass._

_“Don’t waste your reactions on me!” There’s an edge of anger in Thiala’s voice that Alanis has only ever heard in battle. But what the fuck else is Alanis supposed to use them on, herself? If she goes down, Thiala can heal her, who gives a shit, she’s died before and she’ll die again. If Thiala goes down, they’re all deeply, permanently fucked. Alanis wonders if Thiala knows that._

“The Counterspell! Always the Counterspell!” Moonshine growls from between clenched teeth. She’s surprised at the rush of anger that accompanies the command, a burst of annoyance at herself for getting distracted and almost being too slow again. They’re all relying on her. All four of them, Hardwon, Balnor, Bev, _Alanis_ , and Alanis is busy protecting the entire world so she should be able to protect her friends. Should be able to protect this fucking kid, the one who can bring them all back from death if he has to but keeps going down despite her desperate attempts to draw Akarot’s attention.

He’s smart. Moonshine’s not used to fighting smart opponents. Having Hardwon and Balnor pick off the mages is the closest to attempting to strategize they’ve ever had to get.

Bev goes down again. She watches him fall, knocked out by a damn _cantrip_ , and she’s the healer, so she starts the words to a Healing Word without a thought. She’s halfway through it before her brain catches up with her. There’s no point healing him right now. She can’t do more healing than Akarot can do damage. She wants to panic.

She can’t panic.

She’s gotta hold this whole thing together. Hardwon’s acting on her word, Alanis is relying on her so she doesn’t have to break focus, and Bev is…Bev is unconscious. Again. And this is the fucking Devil, he’s not going to have any qualms about killing an unconscious kid.

“Moonshine?” she hears Hardwon’s voice over the Rapport Spores and is pulled back into the real word. He must have felt her near-panic, the same way she can feel his when he misses an attack. Even after all this time, she’s pretty sure he thinks hitting people with hammers is all he’s good for. She’ll have to talk to him about that, if they survive. When they survive. “You good, Moonshine?”

She is. She is. “I got it, keep whacking at the wieners,” she responds, also over Rapport Spores, and she can feel his immediate trust in her come rushing through the network. It’s terrifying, how willing he is to rely on her. But it’s also –

Yeah, she’s got it. Bends down, ignores the confusion on Akarot’s face, plants her palms on the ground next to Bev’s body. Focuses. It feels like it’s hours but it’s really only seconds, and he’s surrounded in stone. It’s not ‘til she stands up that she notices that she’s made him a little coffin, subconsciously, but she’s not going to address that. She’s going to let Hardwon joke about it, and she’s going to respond in kind. She figured it out. She had the right spell. Bev is safe, for now.

She’s got it.

Moonshine turns back to face Akarot, and he looks maybe a little impressed despite himself. Maybe a little worried. Bring it on, come _on_.

_Ulfgar goes down. Alanis and Thiala are doing their best to keep their distance, but Ulfgar is right up in the melee, and Alanis can’t help but wince as one of Asmodeus’s seemingly infinite summoned minions stabs completely through Ulfgar’s torso with a javelin and then uses it to lift him up, flinging his body through the air and towards her and Thiala. It looks like a ragdoll, not to be cliché, but his head is rolled back and he doesn’t even try to catch himself as he falls to the floor with a sickening thud, neck-snapping. Alanis has seen Ulfgar dead enough times to know what this is, has seen Ulfgar dead a_ lot _which, maybe they should talk about, actually, and goes to run forward but has to stop because Asmodeus has turned to focus on her._

 _He smiles, and for a moment she’s focused on his teeth, the way they glint, and she feels herself turning toward Thiala, raising her hand to cast, before she processes what’s happening. No. She knows this spell. She’s_ practiced _resisting this spell. It’ll hurt like hell, but that’s fine, she’s taken worse._

_At the last second, she redirects the Sunburst toward Asmodeus and his minions, making herself and her companions immune in a thought so practiced it’s instinctual – she considers leaving Ilsed out only for a second – and allows herself a small smile when she feels them all fail the save. She maximizes the damage, because anyone who tries to fucking control her fucking deserves it, and barely notices the pain that bursts behind her eyes at daring to resist Asmodeus’s Geas. He stumbles. Sunburst is a good fucking spell. She likes it almost as much as Lightning Bolt._

_Out of the corner of her eye, she glances at Thiala, expecting some sort of indication of excitement or support or even just relief that she hadn’t been the one to take that damage, but gets nothing. Thiala is muttering to herself, hands moving quickly, but Alanis knows a lot of spells and that sure as hell isn’t a Revivify. She’s trying to – she’s the only one of them who can heal and she’s trying to do_ damage _? That’s not her job, they’ve all got their jobs, this is insane._

_“What are you doing?” Alanis does her best not to sound as pissed off as she feels._

_“Taking advantage of weakness, he’s hurt, we can take him out before he heals again –”_

_“He’s the god of the Nine Hells and it was one fucking spell, he’s not that hurt! But Ulfgar’s_ dead! _Look at him!”_

_Alanis watches Thiala look at Ulfgar, and she tells herself that the annoyance that flashes across her face isn’t what she thinks it is. It’s just – heat of battle. She probably wasn’t thinking. (Alanis is always thinking)._

_Thiala doesn’t respond, just kneels beside Ulfgar and clutches her amulet. Alanis takes a quick glance at it, feels it heal her, and then nods to Thiala as she helps Ulfgar up. It’s annoying, it’s a waste of a spell component, it’s a waste of Thiala’s abilities, but it’s what needs to be done; there’s no way in Hell – ha – that they can kill Asmodeus without all three of them._

_And they love each other. That, too. Nobody is going to fucking die._

_Ilsed does something. She’s not sure what, she doesn’t know as much about necromancy as she maybe should, but it does some damage. He’s immediately beset by horned minions, and Alanis takes note of that, files it away in things to be aware of if he starts to get too hurt._

_Ulfgar chugs a potion – Alanis thinks it might be his last one, which is a nightmare – and runs right back at Asmodeus. They don’t acknowledge him dying. They never do. He hits a couple times, she’s not quite sure how many, because she’s too busy preparing to Counterspell the Dominate Person that Asmodeus is sending Ulfgar’s way. It works, automatically, because she knows what the fuck she’s doing, dammit, and at least she doesn’t have to worry about saving spell slots right now._

_Alright. Her magic reserves have recovered from Sunburst, and she doesn’t – there’s not much damage she can do, she’s down to one 7 th level and one 9th, so she throws her hands up and lets her cloak flutter behind her a bit for dramatic effect, and yells, “Stop!” _

_Time stops. Ulfgar takes another swing at Asmodeus before processing what’s happened. Thiala laughs. “You don’t have to yell that every time you cast it, you know,” she says, and Alanis rolls her eyes._

_“Like to give you some warning,” she says._

_“What’s happening?” Ulfgar asks, walking back over to them, axe trailing behind him._

_“We need some healing, I need to get some buffs back up, want to take advantage of him being blinded for as long as possible.”_

_Ulfgar shrugs. He’s long since learned to trust Thiala and Alanis with magic. The two of them do what they can; Thiala throws out some quick heals, Alanis casts her free Protection Against Good and Evil on Ulfgar, they huddle, quickly, strategize. It’s all business. Alanis doesn’t ask Ulfgar if he’s okay, after dying, and she doesn’t ask Thiala what the fuck her deal was with almost letting him stay dead, either. They rally. Time Stop ends._

_The rest of the fight is a blur, a frantic combination of doing radiant damage, Counterspell, Counterspell, buff Ulfgar, Counterspell, buff Thiala, watch her two friends (and Ilsed) wield hammer and axe and have to stand back and do nothing, picking off minions as they materialize. It’s fine. She knew this would happen, she’s the strategist, Counterspell, watch Thiala get hit with a tail swing that throws her halfway across the room, watch her crumple and be unable to do anything about it, Counterspell, watch Ulfgar hack that tail off and bellow in excitement, watch Thiala’s eyes open and her push herself to an almost sitting position, Counterspell, lose track of Ilsed, watch Thiala –_

_There’s a burst of blinding light. Looks like a fucking Guiding Bolt, upcast to 9 th, because of course Thiala’s been saving her fucking ninth level. Her entire body is shaking, there’s blood pouring from her mouth, but she hits, and for a second Asmodeus’s entire body lights up in holy flame before disintegrating, inch by inch turning into ash and blowing away. _

_There is silence._

_Alanis doesn’t move until the ash is completely gone, no longer even hanging in the air. And then she shakes herself, notices her hands are vibrating with adrenaline, lights a joint as she runs over to Thiala. Thiala’s collapsed again, and Alanis looks frantically through first Thiala’s pockets, and then her own, for a potion. She finds nothing. Ulfgar joins them, and he’s limping, leg almost entirely disconnected from his body._

_Thiala breathes out, and blood bubbles around her lips. Alanis has nothing. No spells that can help, no potions, no items, fucking nothing. Thiala cannot die like this. She_ will _not die like this._

_Wordlessly, beside her, Ulfgar pulls half of a lesser healing potion from within his armor and hands it to her. He could have given it to Thiala just as easily as she, but Alanis is grateful for him letting her fucking do something useful, nods to him in thanks. She crouches down beside Thiala and cups her chin gently, almost afraid she’s going to break something. That’s ridiculous, of course. She can’t break anything worse than it’s already broken. Shit._

_Alanis pours what’s left of the potion down Thiala’s throat, and she’s so aware of Ulfgar right by her side, reaches out to squeeze his hand quickly as Alanis swallows involuntarily. Half of a lesser health potion is barely anything, especially compared to the damage Thiala’s taken – neck askew, blood leaking from the cracks in her armor, breath so faint as to make the rising and falling of her chest indiscernible._

_Alanis and Ulfgar wait, the silence heavy._

_And they wait._

_And Thiala coughs. And opens her eyes. And as soon as she can process anything, points directly behind Ulfgar and Alanis and chokes out, “Ilsed –” before coughing up more blood than Alanis had ever thought a human body could hold._

_Alanis and Ulfgar turn, and there is Ilsed, sitting on Asmodeus’s thrown, the Crown of the Nine Hells burning bright on his head._

The last image Moonshine sees before Alanis Teleports them back to the Material Plane is Pendergreens sitting on the throne of the Nine Hells, looking moderately uncomfortable and way too excited. She should’ve just taken the crown. She trusts in the power of her magic, and Pendergreens is definitely not smart enough to figure out a way around it, but even so, it feels wrong. Their whole journey has been about cleaning up the Legendary Heroes’ messes, and now they’ve just left another mess for someone to clean up – they’ve said they’ll come back to it, but Moonshine knows they’ll be lucky if any of them survive killing Thiala, let alone all of them.

She doesn’t say anything. They’ll leap that lily pad when they get to it; there’s no point worrying Hardwon and Bev.

They appear back in the Material Plane, and Moonshine is surprised to see that it’s light out, the sun’s rays piercing through the light overhead of leaves and speckling the ground with shadows. Fuck, it’s beautiful. And fuck, she misses the Crick.

“We did it!” Bev exclaims, the reality of it maybe sinking in now that they’re back in relative safety, and Moonshine smiles at him indulgently. She’s very aware of Alanis’s silence directly beside her.

“We should rest for a bit,” Hardwon responds, and Moonshine nods to him. They’re in no shape to fight gods now. If they can treat some of their wounds, if she can trance, then they can set out hunting Akarot’s new bodies. She’s so…tired. For once, she’d like a victory to actually stay a victory.

“Yeah,” she says. And then again, trying to sound more enthusiastic, “Yeah, you’re right. Can you and Bev and Balnor start setting up camp over there?” she points to a small clearing a little ways off, and Hardwon nods, doesn’t even think to question why she’s not helping.

“Bev!” he yells, because of course Bev has already wandered off to take pictures of bugs for Erlin, and walks off with Balnor trailing behind. Moonshine watches them start setting up a campfire with a light smile on her lips. She can magically make food, of course, but sometimes it’s nice to try whatever concoction Bev and Hardwon can come up with using what’s in the bag. Sometimes. Other times it’s inedible, and she makes the food anyway. It’s still…there’s something beautiful about how they move so naturally together, building a fire and a small shelter like they’ve all done a hundred times.

The smell of weed fills the air, and Moonshine shakes herself and turns to Alanis, who has just released a billow of smoke up into the sky. Alanis smiles at her and holds her pipe out, offering it. Moonshine takes it silently, breathes in deeply, and passes it back. Yeah. Crick water is probably a terrible idea right now, but she needs _something_.

“What’s up?” Alanis asks, not even looking at her.

“What do you mean?”

Alanis gestures with her pipe. “You know. Sending Bev and Hardwon and Balnor off, having control over the current Lord of the Nine Hells, whatever. What’s up?”

Oh. She’d really just wanted a second to compose herself. She doesn’t like letting the boys see her scared, or sad, or whatever; what’s the point? “I should have taken that crown. We’re supposed to be –” she stops herself. Doesn’t want to be rude to Alanis, Legendary Hero.

“Supposed to be what? Cleaning up our mistakes? I’ve been trying to clean up our mistakes for longer than most people have been alive, it’s harder than you’d think.” Another deep inhale, eyes closed.

“Why’d you lie? About Ilsed or – or Akarot. Why didn’t you just finish him off?” Moonshine is surprised to discover genuine anger behind the question, an edge to the word ‘lie’ that she wants to retract as soon as it leaves her mouth but also kind of doesn’t.

“Fair question.” Alanis finally turns to look at her, and Moonshine’s never really noticed before, or maybe she’s just never been this close before, but Alanis’s eyes are _old_. Is this what’s going to happen to her? The same body, for thousands of years, but eyes that don’t quite fit? She doesn’t want to think about who she’ll have lost, by the time her eyes look like that. “Simple answer is we were fucking tired, and we thought it wouldn’t matter. Real answer is Thiala and I were ready to go back, but she was almost dead and Ulfgar had Crick Rot and I was – well, frankly, I don’t know what my excuse was, but Ulfgar convinced us that it would be fine and we’d done our job and so we, like, took a break adventuring, and thought maybe we’d still come back and deal with it before anyone had to know I – we’d failed. And then Thiala went crazy so, like, there were other things on my mind. And Ulfgar’s too, I’d imagine, although I haven’t seen him in a while.” There’s a pause, and Moonshine isn’t sure if Alanis expects her to respond yet or not, before Alanis continues. “I don’t know, I always kind of genuinely believed we’d come back to it. I was – I don’t know if you know this, I don’t know how much makes it into the legends, whatever, but I was the one who talked them into it in the first place. Ulfgar thought it was insane, only went because I was going. Thiala was…I don’t know, maybe too enthusiastic, but it was my idea, so. Thiala’s whole deal is my fault, in a way, and I thought it was more important to deal with that then to deal with Ilsed, I guess.” Another pause. “I’m sorry about your aunt.”

Moonshine is taken aback before remembering that Alanis had watched all of their adventures, multiple times over, had probably seen her lie to Marabelle about being her sister to give her peace in her last moments of life. No one’s ever…apologized for Marabelle, before, not even Mee Maw or Cobb. It feels strange. “It’s not your fault. Marabelle wasn’t your responsibility.”

“Strong words, coming from you.” Alanis looks away again but passes her pipe back to Moonshine. Moonshine takes another hit in order to process, to cover her confusion, and then passes it back.

“What d’you mean?”

“You seem to treat everything like it’s your responsibility. Just fifteen minutes ago, you were directing Hardwon and Balnor, keeping me on track, saving Bev’s life, _and_ fighting your own battle.”

Alanis is completely right, of course, but Moonshine’s got no interest in admitting that. “And you don’t?” she asks, instead.

“Of course I do. Because out of the two people I was supposed to be able to trust, one’s a fucking fascist and one keeps getting stuck under the control of that fucking fascist. So, I do what I have to do. But I’m trying not to – you’re the heroes now, I’m just helping out.”

Moonshine latches onto that excuse. She generally thinks of herself as an honest person, and she is, if only because she’s never been able to lie for shit, but she doesn’t talk about the potential of being a leader, and she doesn’t talk about her fears, and she doesn’t talk about the way she’s always taken charge, even while wanting to do anything but. It’s not that she doesn’t _want_ to talk about it. She just doesn’t. It’s not something Moonshine Cybin does. “Yeah, we’re the heroes now. It’s our responsibility.”

Alanis reaches out, and Moonshine thinks she’s handing her the pipe again, but instead she wraps her arm around Moonshine’s shoulders and pulls her close, the improbable combination of weed and baby’s breath and lavender filling her lungs. Moonshine tenses at first; she doesn’t know if she trusts Alanis, still, as much as she desperately wants to, but Alanis squeezes her shoulder and Moonshine lets herself lean against her. She hadn’t let herself think about how unsteady she was until someone else was helping to support her weight, and now she can barely stand. “Yeah, _our_ responsibility. Not just me. Not just you.” Moonshine can feel the vibrations of Alanis’s voice as she speaks.

“Then who else?” Because the thing is, Moonshine loves Bev and Hardwon with all her heart, but Bev is a kid, just barely sixteen, and he’s barely holding himself together, some days, and Hardwon is…well, he’s Hardwon, and she knows he’ll do anything she asks but he’s not – he’s not the type to save the world on his own. And that’s fine. That’s what she’s here for. That’s the purpose she serves.

“All of us,” Alanis says, more serious than Moonshine’s ever heard her, and pulls Moonshine into a hug, which she doesn’t resist. She clings to her, so she doesn’t collapse. “It can’t just be you.” Moonshine doesn’t cry.

But she’ll be damned if she doesn’t come close.


	3. It Doesn't Stay Saved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thiala demands answers. Beverly wishes for clarity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Tumblr user sofhtie for reading this over!

_Thiala stands alone, on the edge of a cliff. It is the highest point she could find, on short notice, and even though she knows that Pelor can either hear her wherever she is or he can’t hear her at all, it feels better to be closer to him. Below her, waves crash against the rock. In a million years, part of this cliff will have fallen into the sea. In a million years, probably none of this will matter. Nothing she’s done and nothing she will do. So, what’s the point?_

_She imagines she feels the sea spray on her face. It feels real, like it should be dampening her robes. Even if it won’t matter in a million years, it matters now._

_When she had first felt the glow of divinity, Thiala had knelt to pray. She had bowed her head to unimaginable power, begging it for help. She doesn’t kneel anymore, now that she’s faced down unimaginable power and won. Instead she simply tilts her head toward the sky, looking up to beg her god for help._

_Thiala already knows that Pelor won’t answer._

Beverly sits cross-legged at the campfire Hardwon had built (well, Moonshine had built it, mostly, but Hardwon had done his best to help). He’s killed his father. It had to be done, and he had done it in the best way he knew how. But, nevertheless, he is the last living Beverly Toegold, and there will, most likely, never be another. He’s curled up against Hardwon, and he’s full on Moonshine’s jambalaya, and Balnor had pulled him aside and told him that he knew he wasn’t a replacement but that he’d continue being his dad for a long as Beverly would have him.

He still feels lonely.

He made the choice to be the hero, and it feels like that should be it. They’d defeated Akarot, except they hadn’t really, and there were just more hollow bodies to kill, and then Thiala, and then, well, who knows, really, there might be more out there, just waiting. In the myths that he and Erlin had quizzed each other on as Green Teens, it was always easy. You fought the bad guy, some people got hurt, you won, and the world was saved. That was it. It feels like he and his friends are the only people to ever fuck up, to ever be caught in this endless loop of never good enough.

Beverly pushes himself closer against Hardwon and closes his eyes and prays.

_Pelor._ Pelor and the Dusk Mother. _Have I angered you?_ Are we on the right path? _I have served no one but you, all these long years, and yet one devil has been replaced by another while you have done nothing._ I sent my father to you, Dusk Mother, to seek redemption, but Pelor, I worry that I have angered you. _I thought you had sent me to save the world._ I didn’t know what else to do. _Why does the world still need to be saved, then?_ I never know what else to do. _Why wasn’t what I did enough?_ Why wasn’t what we did enough? _Was it a test?_ I’m scared for my friends. _Do you want me to do more, to be greater?_ Please, Pelor, if I have angered you, save my friends. _I’m tired of being greater; I’m tired of being more_. Please, Dusk Mother, take care of them, if we lose. _But someone has to save the world._ I know someone has to save the world. _It might as well be me._ Why did it have to be us?

There is no response. _There is no response._ Eventually, Beverly falls asleep, the rumble of Hardwon’s snores as familiar as the weight of the amulet around his neck and the gold painting on his feet and the photo he still keeps inside his breastplate. _Thiala stands in the wind, higher than the world, and yanks her amulet from around her neck. She throws it into the ocean, and it falls too far for her to hear the splash._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


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